


Clarity

by HerSistersKeeper



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Broken Engagement, F/M, Past Relationship(s), Reylo - Freeform, Unresolved Emotional Tension, unfollowed, wickedlywonderfulweekofreylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7152986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerSistersKeeper/pseuds/HerSistersKeeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had given up his chance of happiness years ago, when he refused to follow her. She had given up her happiness when she let him.</p><p>“I’m sorry, my liege.” He heard her words, sinking down in his throne as the door closed behind her. Kylo knew that she was stepping into the arms of her husband, that they were not his arms, but she’d be back soon.</p><p>Despite everything, he needed her to keep his mind clear, to keep him sane. Despite everything, she’d be his cure, and would follow him no matter what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity

“Rey…no. Don’t follow me.”

The look on her face was one caught between anger and hurt, her lip attempting to pull back to a sneer, yet puff out in a pout. If this was over something so simple, if they were still children, he’d be able to laugh at the expression, able to pull her in and kiss her cheeks, to soothe her. But this was different—this was her future being at stake, and he wouldn’t allow someone like him to stay in her way like this.

“I’m not a child anymore, Ben. Things change, and I can follow whoever I want.” She glared at him, wishing for him to stop being so stupid, wishing that he would stop thinking about the following ceremony. It was a strange practice, really—here, in this grand capital of the kingdom, eligible youths would participate in the following, essentially a race where suitors would attempt to catch their love through a dangerous course. As crown prince, Ben was to be followed by just about every girl in the kingdom, and yet, here he was, trying to order her not to run.

“We’ve been practically betrothed since I was born. You can’t expect me to unfollow you now.” He watched the sixteen-year-old pace before him, betrayal etching itself into her frame, realization dawning as she glanced at him now.

“I’m…going to be followed myself. Is that what’s happening?” Rey hadn’t expected her rank to allow her a separate ceremony, had expected to run for her husband, not to be another prize to be won. Tears stung her eyes, tightened her throat and made it hard to breath, her hands finding support in the table behind her. “What changed?”

“Your grandfather’s death left you heir to his position as the king’s hand. You will serve as my adviser one day, and so the council feels that we should not be married.”

“You’ll follow me…won’t you?” They knew how this worked—the royal following was the last to take place, as by tradition and practical matters, allowing suitors to come from every city in the kingdom. Hers would, of course, take place before his, and so gave them a chance.

His silence made her frantic, and she clutched at his arms now, clawing at his sleeves, trying to anchor herself, trying to look up into his face, her panic growing as he avoided her gaze. “I won’t be running at all. No one will be running for me.” His dark eyes burned into hers, challenging her. “I would rather die without an heir than marry anyone besides you, Rey, but as future king, I have to put my people first.” He attempted to cup her cheek, pull her in for a kiss, but instead, he found his cheek stinging, his beloved standing before him, hand raised, sobbing.

“Future king or not, Ben Solo: you are so stupid. You are afraid.” She pulled her hand down, forcing it to remain at her side, her limbs trembling. “You will be my king, yes, and I will be your adviser. That much is true. But don’t you _ever_ expect me to forgive you for not even trying to follow me.” With that, she turned, dress sweeping behind her as she bolted, door swinging and slamming with a resounding thud behind her, leaving the prince to consider her words.

Rey was a luxury that he could not afford. That much he was convinced of, and so he wasn’t sure why he allowed himself to entertain the possibility of following her, of running the course, of officially claiming her as his. It’d save her potential future spouse heartache, since he knew that he would not be able to keep himself away from her. Still, he shook himself, striding to the door. His relationship with Rey, romantically speaking, was over. In a few days’ time, she would be married to the victor of her following, and would begin her training as his adviser. That was the plan, and he would not interfere.

This is what he told himself then, but it didn’t prepare him for the moment that he had forgotten about: blessing his adviser’s marriage. His scalp pricked, the heat beneath his crown threatening to burn him alive as she stared at him from behind the white lace, her painted eyelashes fluttering against the barrier like a trapped butterfly, her fear only seen by him. The red-haired man beside her seemed more focused on his conquest, on his luck, his wide smile making Ben—now King Ren—wonder if the suitor perhaps did love Rey as much as he did.

 _Impossible_ , was his thought, but still, jealousy ate his gut like a pack of wolves as the boy, one of his (former) friends, bring her hand to his lips. Yes, General Hux would be his greatest allies in court—and his greatest enemy, having taken his queen. There was nothing to be done now, though, the king staying silent as the vows were recited, as his role was fulfilled, as Rey’s face crumpled in the moment before her veil was lifted, her painted lips trembling as they fixed themselves into a smile.

No, he would never forgive himself for not following her.

…….

“Your highness, a word.” Kylo turned to glance at her, his adviser, her lips arranged in a frown, a look that he had grown accustomed to since her wedding five years earlier. He sighed, his hand finding his brow, massaging an impending headache.

“What is it, Rey?” He expected her to snap at him, to scold him for his familiar use of her name, but instead she sighed, perching herself at his right hand. “The general is hoping to receive an audience with you.”

“And he couldn’t have sent a messenger to say that? I pity your dinner conversations, Rey.” She didn’t flinch at his barb, knowing by now that it was simply routine now. At this point, she was used to a lot of things when it came to her husband and her king. She was used to Hux’s snoring, to his ability to multitask. She was used to Kylo’s inability to leave the past behind, to the way he ruled the kingdom.

And yes, she was very much aware of the push and pull that was the two’s rivalry over her. Rey would admit that she had grown fond of Hux—being forced into close quarters would do that, she mused, but furthermore…she admired the fact that he followed her, that he actually made an attempt to win her.

Kylo was still her love, would forever have her heart, yes—but she didn’t deny that she hated him still for unfollowing her, for leaving her for anyone to claim. She knew she was lucky, being married to Hux, for he treated her right and truly did love her, but there were still mornings that she woke up and ached to see a dark mop of wavy hair of her king on the pillow beside her. But that would never be, no matter how many times she wished it otherwise, no matter how many times she allowed Kylo to take her in secret, no matter how she attempted to pretend that Hux was the king when he made love to her. It wouldn’t be, because Kylo hadn’t tried.

“As I have said before, Kylo, my dinner conversations with my husband have no place in your throne room. And I’d rather not have to remind you again.” He watched her rise, anger getting the best of her, one hand protectively on her growing stomach, other hand collecting her skirts, allowing her to rise gracefully.

“Does it have to do with the baby?” Rey paused, turning back to see him push himself out of his throne, his once boyish chin covered now by a beard, his softness of yesteryear gone for good.

“Does it matter if it does?” She pulled her shoulders back, hazel eyes daring him to push the subject. They both knew better, both knowing that even if it was the king’s child, Hux would welcome it with open arms, would father it as his own, would love the child because he loved the mother. They both knew that the kingdom would whisper about it for a time, that the rumors would die eventually, that the child would sit on the throne anyways, seeing that Kylo had no successor, that his adviser and her family would be next in line after his death.

It was a dangerous game, and if Rey had actually been playing, she’d have been winning. But she could see no victory in the downcast eyes of her liege, and she wondered what she could do to ease his loneliness, seeing the short years already taking their toll on him… but there was nothing.

He had given up his chance of happiness years ago, when he refused to follow her. She had given up her happiness when she let him.

“I’m sorry, my liege.” He heard her words, sinking down in his throne as the door closed behind her. Kylo knew that she was stepping into the arms of her husband, that they were not his arms, but she’d be back soon.

Despite everything, he needed her to keep his mind clear, to keep him sane. Despite everything, she’d be his cure, and would follow him no matter what.

 


End file.
